


Illusory Veil

by randomwriter57



Series: Sormik Week 2018 [5]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Illusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomwriter57/pseuds/randomwriter57
Summary: “So you say.” Mikleo summoned his staff, moving into a battle stance. “Care to prove your dedication, Shepherd?”





	Illusory Veil

**Author's Note:**

> as soon as i saw the prompts, the first thing i thought of was little miss misty. hence, a fic where she doesn't just make them fight clones of themselves. enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Written for [Sormik Week](http://sormikweek.tumblr.com) day five, Envy/Pride (Fog).

Maybe Sorey should have been more cautious.

To be fair, he’d been hesitant. As he and his companions walked through the depths of the Mount Mabinogio Ruins, venturing into each new room with a lingering sense of dread, the malevolence slowly coursing into their veins, they all knew something was bound to happen. There’s no way Heldalf or his followers would allow them to enter Camlann without trouble.

When they found a room which was locked to everyone but Sorey, he hadn’t seen another option. There was no other way forward.

“Don’t worry,” he said to his friends. They listened to his words, though they still looked hesitant. Even Edna had her umbrella down, shoulders hunched as she gave him a hard stare. “It’s just like with the crucibles, right? I’ll break through it, don’t worry.”

A soft punch to his shoulder grabbed his attention, and he turned to see Mikleo. His violet eyes were downcast, though they met his a moment later, filled with determination.

“You’d better come back,” Mikleo said.

Sorey let an easy smile cross his lips. “I will, I promise.”

After taking one last deep breath, Sorey headed through the doorway, passing the invisible barrier which kept the others from entering. The door closed behind him, cloaking his surroundings in darkness.

He was alone.

All he sensed was the familiar damp mustiness of an age-old ruin, combined with the nausea of growing malevolence. The scent of the moss and nature clashed against the stench of despair. He felt a little sick as the happy memories of his past mixed together with the chaos of the present.

He made his way through the corridor into a larger chamber, where the torches on the walls lit up the moment he stepped into the room. A low fog drifted over the ground, barely visible, clinging to his boots. Letting his hand hover over the hilt of his sword, he waited for something to come out from the darkness at the other end of the chamber, keeping his eyes fixed on that wall.

A voice spoke from behind him.

“Sorey.”

He froze. That voice was one he’d known all his life, one he’d heard only minutes ago, had left behind a door, safe in the company of the rest of their friends. There was no way he could be here.

And yet, when Sorey turned around, he saw Mikleo standing at the doorway, his face painted with concern, brows brought low over his eyes.

“We need to talk,” said Mikleo, his voice wobbling.

Sorey frowned. “Talk? Is now really the best time?”

“I asked the others to do this so we’d have a minute alone,” Mikleo said. “We should be safe here. So please, listen.”

Something made Sorey’s stomach twist at Mikleo’s tone. It didn’t make sense, that Mikleo would tell him to stay safe before he entered the room if he already knew it would be safe. Besides, there’s no way Mikleo would pick a time like this to have a conversation with him.

This had to be fake.

“Cut it out, Symonne,” Sorey said, sensing that this must be the cause. “I don’t have time for your games.”

Mikleo’s face crumpled in hurt, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t even recognise me enough to talk, even when it’s important. No wonder you didn’t want me to be your sub lord.”

“What? No, we’ve been over this, I- Symonne!”

“Well, you know what?” Mikleo said. His voice turned to a bitter tone, and he met Sorey’s eyes with a glare the likes of which Sorey had never seen Mikleo point at anyone. “I never thought you made a good Shepherd anyway. Always too idealistic, too naive. Why was it you, in the end? Why not someone who actually stood a chance of saving the world?”

Sorey’s throat constricted, but he swallowed his emotions. As much as it hurt to hear these words in Mikleo’s voice, it was clear this wasn’t him. “I’m doing what good I can for the world.”

“Am I in your way?” Mikleo spat. “As always. You never cared about me. All you care about is yourself and your image. The perfect, pure Shepherd.”

“What are you trying to say?” Sorey said, concern filling him.

Mikleo’s eyes burned with hatred. “I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you.”

His words - Symonne’s words - were an obvious ploy. She spat vitriol, hoping it would make him breed malevolence. Already she had played this game several times and lost, and he wouldn’t lose this time either.

But those words stung more than anything, like being inflicted with paralysis. They bit into his open wounds, seeping venom into his muscles.

He had to be stronger than this.

“Say what you like,” Sorey said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “But you can’t lie and make me think you’re being truthful.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Mikleo said, eyes flashing. “You never believe me. You’ve never trusted in me or cared for me, and I doubt you ever loved me-”

“I do love you, Mikleo!” Sorey yelled, finally letting his emotions flow freely. “I am so, _so_ proud of you. You’ve come so far during our journey, and I don’t regret for a second that you became my sub lord. The only thing I regret is waiting so long to let you join me.”

“So you would have my power on your side,” Mikleo spat. “It’s far easier to use a tool when you’re already intimately acquainted with it, isn’t that right?”

“You know that’s not true!”

“So you say.” Mikleo summoned his staff, moving into a battle stance. “Care to prove your dedication, Shepherd?”

As little as he wanted to fight, there was no way out of this. The door behind him had disappeared, and Mikleo didn’t look like he’d happily let Sorey pass.

With gritted teeth, Sorey grabbed his sword.

The illusion grinned, teeth gleaming in an unnerving way. In a moment he darted forward, staff at the ready.

Sorey didn’t hesitate. He blocked the attack, following with a counter which hit against Mikleo's staff. Mikleo pushed him off before stepping back, moving to quickly charge an arte. With no time to stop the casting of Twin Flow, it was all Sorey could do to dodge out of the way at the last moment.

Fighting this Mikleo was unpleasant for more than one reason. Though he and Mikleo constantly sparred in their youth, practising to make themselves stronger, this felt entirely different. There were tiny nuances in the timing of his attacks, inconsistencies in his movements, and a heavy atmosphere between them. Where their sparring matches were usually light hearted and purely for training and fun, this match was life or death. This Mikleo hit him with every ounce of his strength not because he wanted to grow stronger, but because of the hatred burning in violet eyes. Every blow was aimed to kill.

But these were the things which made Sorey remember the reality of the situation.

This was not the real Mikleo. This was an illusion.

At some point they parted, breathing heavily and watching the other with wary eyes. Mikleo’s chest heaved, his muscles limp. He lunged forward for a final blow, but Sorey easily shrugged it off, swinging his sword to cast his staff to the side. The fake Mikleo fell to the ground, defeated.

“Stop using my friends to get at me,” Sorey said. “If you have a problem, come out and face us head on.”

The Mikleo on the floor glowered up at him for a moment, then disappeared in a flash of light.

Suddenly, the room brightened into colour. The fog cleared, and the door appeared behind him as before.

Sorey allowed himself to relax, barely sheathing his sword before letting himself fall to his knees. Though the tension had lifted somewhat, the physical and emotional stress of fighting the likeness of the person he loved most made his legs feel like lead. Even if it was just for a moment, he needed to breathe, to let the tension seep out of tired muscles.

Except then the door opened, footsteps came rushing towards him, and in a moment cool hands rested on his shoulders, a voice speaking in his ear, asking if he was okay.

Sorey jerked out of Mikleo’s grasp.

Mikleo pulled back, his shoulders tensing up. “What happened?” he asked in a low tone.

But Sorey couldn’t answer. His mouth tasted like cotton, too dry to form words. Instead of speaking, he shook his head.

“Perhaps we should return to Elysia for now,” Lailah suggested from near the door. “Rest is good for the spirit, after all.”

It was only now that Sorey looked up to see his other friends with her, watching him warily. The only one he couldn’t see fully was Edna, who had her umbrella up, her back turned to him.

“You’re obviously tired,” she said. “Go home. Now.”

“Heldalf isn’t going anywhere,” Rose added.

Sorey pressed his lips together. As little as he wanted to give up now, he knew they were right. If he tried to fight in this condition, he would put everyone else in danger.

A pale hand appeared in front of him. “Let’s go home,” Mikleo said.

Despite everything, Sorey couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore. Reaching out, he took Mikleo’s hand.

 

* * *

 

“Sorey.”

He opened his eyes.

Darkness covered the bedroom. The only light came from the tiny window above his bed, a small stream of moonlight on the ceiling. No sound could be heard save for their breathing and his name, a breath on Mikleo’s lips.

It had been hours since they returned. At that time, Sorey headed straight for bed, making the excuse of being too tired to talk. The others thankfully let him go without question.

But he couldn’t sleep, especially not when Mikleo came through an hour after him, taking his usual place in bed beside him.

Sorey’s hands gripped the cover around him.

“Yeah?” he whispered after a moment.

Mikleo shifted, and only when he felt the words on the back of his neck did he know Mikleo faced him now. “Will you tell me what happened earlier?”

He opened his mouth, but the sensation from earlier returned. No words came out.

When he didn’t answer, Mikleo pressed on.

“Was it Symonne?”

Closing his eyes, Sorey nodded into the pillow.

A breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

“I see.”

Silence filled the air. Mikleo’s breathing evened out against his skin, and Sorey opened his eyes again.

“You know I’m really grateful to you, right?” Sorey said, reminding himself that it was safe here. “That I’m glad you became my sub lord. That you’re here with me even at times like this.”

Mikleo leaned forward, his hair brushing against Sorey’s neck. “Of course I do.”

“And that I love you, and that I’m really proud of how far you’ve come?”

“Yes,” Mikleo said. “I feel the same way for you.”

A smile finally caught at Sorey’s lips at the warm way Mikleo spoke. He reached back and pulled Mikleo’s hand over him, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you, Mikleo.”

Shifting closer, Mikleo let his body meet Sorey’s back, supporting him.

“Don’t thank me,” he whispered. “Those are my true feelings. That’s all.”

Outside, the sky remained clear, stars piercing through the darkness. The two boys fell asleep in an embrace, comfortable in the security of home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me [@luzrofrulay](http://twitter.com/luzrofrulay) on twitter / [@luzrof-rulay](http://luzrof-rulay.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more Tales Of ramblings | [@randomactuallywrites-57](http://randomactuallywrites-57.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more writing!


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